Monday, 10 December 2012

Bad Santa - flash fiction


Ho Ho Ho and a Merry Christmas!! Newsflash: those lovely ladies over at Sweet Banana Ink are blog hopping their way to Christmas with the theme of Bad Santa.  Give them 500 hundred of your meanest, leanest festive words and put yourself in the running to win $25 of Amazon vouchers as a Christmas treat.

Tweet about it using the hashtag #badsanta2012!

Here's mine....

Picture by Bart Fields (Creative Commons)


Bad Santa (by Mrs Claus)


If I hadn’t found the dust I might never have known. 

The sheets were glacier smooth and cold to touch, antiseptic. Like new fallen snow, perfect and unsullied. 

“Nick?”  The room was as silent as the drifts piling up against the window.  Damn, it was cold, minus 15 outside.  Some days I missed Miami, the way the sun clung to my damp skin.  A girl could forget what sun was, stuck out here.

But Miami was a long time ago. I wore black back then, not red. Thick eyeliner, coal-coloured hair - a regular Morticia Addams.  That’s what caught his eye.  He laughed about it, that fat rolling laugh that I felt all the way down to my toes.  Soot-resistant, he called me.  I fell in love with that laugh before I even saw his face.

How long ago was that?  Three years? Five? 

Mom told me I’d never hack it in Lapland.  Too cold, too isolated.  I didn’t give a shit, not so long as I had Nick.  He radiates warmth like he’s swallowed the sun, the kind of guy that people grin at in the street, broad faced and handsome with a smile the size of Biscayne Bay.   

Fuck Mom and her bitterness.  That Christmas she got a copy of Why Men Love Bitches in her stocking.  Too old for me was he?  Seen that type before?  Fuck her. Sometimes Christmas did come early.  Sometimes it really was all candy canes and egg nog.  Every day’s a holiday with Nick.

If only I hadn’t found the goddamn dust. 

Just a trace, a smear on the sheet.  Barely noticeable.  Then I saw it in the shower, streaked along the wall.  That time I walked away, stood over the sink with my palms planted on the ceramic, breathing like a bull ready to charge.  Calm, I told myself.  There had to be an explanation.

He worked so closely with them, dust was bound to rub off.  God only knew they were touchy feely little bastards, always dancing about hugging each other.  Winsome, adorable and goddamn dusty. 

But only on their bare skin.

I stared at the white bed, as perfect as a holiday postcard. Reaching out to draw back the covers, I realised my hand was shaking.

Fuck that. I didn’t need to see the sheets to know that my husband was screwing the elves. 

I could almost smell Mom’s turkey roasting.  She’d have my place set, just like she did every year, just in case.  The baubles I’d made at kindergarten would be swinging from the tree.

Christmas is about family, right?

And making plans for the New Year. 

I'm looking forward to the sleigh ride home. I've got plans to make, people to call. A man worth six billion dollars a year in sponsorship should think twice about where he gets his fairy booty.

And check the drawers.

When I look, the camcorder is still running.  Pocketing the memory card, I smile.

Merry Christmas, Nick.

Ho ho ho.




Now go read the other stories!

18 comments:

Bullish said...

Holy Wow!! Now, that's how you sully Santa in style!! Wohooooo!! Terrific writing, Meg!!

Cameron Lawton said...

Oh sheesh - I'll never look at Father Christmas in the same light again. Well done Meg, your usual brilliant standard xxx

Lisa Shambrook said...

Hope blackmail works and the memory card never comes to light...or a whole load of dreams will be destroyed!
Damning!

Mark Ethridge said...

A lot of fun to read. Your character knows what she's doing. (:

Miss Bliss said...

Brilliant! The Kringle fella is the one who better watch out now.

Diane J. Reed said...

Oh my god--this is by FAR the best flash fiction I've read all year! It's STUNNINGLY good!!!! I am in awe--love-love-love it!

Meg McNulty said...

Thank you!! Glad it wasn't a bridge too far with the elves... I did worry ;-)

Sophie Moss said...

Are you kidding me, Meg? This is fantastic! Love it!!

Miranda Kate said...

Brilliant! Just Brilliant! Loved every bit of it, when I realised what he was upto I actually let out a gasp (with a smile). It could be considered sacrilege even blasphemous, but in this day and age, very real, and likely!! LOVED!! Is there much point me trying to go up against that?! LOL

Meg McNulty said...

Thank you! And Miranda for SURE you best be submitting. I can't wait to read your story!

J. Whitworth Hazzard said...

Can you blame a man? All that elf booty parading around in his face 24/7. ;-) Great piece. Loved it.

injaynesworld said...

You are clearly perverted... I like that in a person! :) Brilliantly, funny, Meg.

JTsuruoka said...

That's beautiful! Bad Santa indeed...

Meg McNulty said...

Ha! I can assure you that I don't harbour any Santa fantasies... mind you, since I saw that Santa is in fact (a rather crinkly) Hercules I might change my mind. See: http://www.thegenretraveler.com/genretraveler/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/kevin-sorbo-santa-suit.jpg

Cameron Lawton said...

Ye gods! Well ... if his elves are anything like Legolas, I couldn't blame him. Brilliant

Kern Windwraith said...

Oh, Meg, you really are amazing. This is wonderful--cheeky, irreverent, beautifully (BEAUTIFULLY!) written, and hilarious. You rock the Bad Santa!

Laura James said...

This is great, I did gasp when I realised where this was going, but enjoyed it tons, such a lovely read :)

Meg McNulty said...

Ha! I'm all about the dwarves now I've seen the Hobbit :-)